


Remember Me, Seldomly

by IBoatedHere



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Muscian Caleb, Sharing a Bed, Soldier Ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 16:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6527995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBoatedHere/pseuds/IBoatedHere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t get nightmares. He doesn’t dream at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember Me, Seldomly

**Author's Note:**

> Read the end notes. They're more important. 
> 
>  
> 
> Title from The Trapeze Swinger by Iron & Wine which is tragic and beautiful and the song that inspired my only tattoo so don't shit talk it.

It's been seven years since Ben last saw him but there's no doubt that Caleb Brewster is on stage in the dimly lit bar strumming his guitar and capturing the attention of everyone in the room with his voice. 

Ben knows he should leave. 

He should slide a few bills across the bar and run home. Then he should get a car somewhere. Rent it. He gets an amazing discount with his military ID which he never uses anywhere but he'd make an exception this time. He should get the car and drive. His father wouldn't miss him too badly. They barely speak and when they do it’s stilted and awkward. 

He should put as much distance between him and Caleb as possible.

 

*****

 

They met in a bar like this. 

 

Ben was on a date with someone else. His first date in a very long time. The guy asked him to go out for drinks and Ben had tipped his head to the side and narrowed his eyes and agreed because why not? His friends all said he should go. College was the time to experiment and figure out who you are and the guy was good looking and nice and Ben had the idea that he was a little forgettable and it proved to be true when Ben came face to face with a shorter man with the deepest, brownest eyes he had ever seen and Ben immediately forgot his date's name. 

 

He came out of nowhere and leaned his elbows on the table and said _“can I buy you a drink?”_

 

Ben was speechless. Shocked. He couldn’t believe it. 

 

“Excuse me,” his date said, caught somewhere between amused and annoyed. “I’m on a date here.”

 

Caleb had crossed his arms and smiled and said _“well it's a good thing I asked him then.”_

 

Abe had called it a whirlwind romance and Anna called it an obsession. 

 

They were both right. 

 

They spent every moment of spare time together. Totally wrapped up in each other. When Ben was little his mother said that he wouldn't believe in love at first sight until it happened to him and when he told Caleb three weeks after meeting him that he loved him he knew he waited three weeks too long to say it.

 

Caleb was a musician. 

He never went anywhere without his guitar and a notebook and pencil to write down lyrics when he needed to. He told him he used to write on napkins, receipts, his skin, before he finally gave in and started hauling the notebook around.

 

He always had calluses on his hand that used to drive Ben crazy when he brushed them against his smooth skin and his voice was as deep and soulful as his eyes and when Ben told him that, drunk and quiet against the shell of Caleb’s ear in the back of his cab after one of his shows Caleb had thrown his head back and laughed and Ben blushed then put his lips against his neck until Caleb stopped laughing. 

 

They didn’t make sense together. 

 

Or at least no one thought they did.

 

Physically and emotionally they were opposites. 

 

Ben, tall and fair and Caleb shorter with dark, unruly curls. 

 

Ben was always cleanly shaven and Caleb hadn’t touched a razor since junior year of high school. 

 

Ben was more high strung and Caleb laid back. 

 

Ben picked Caleb up and Caleb calmed him down. 

 

They drew stares. People looked at them. 

 

Ben would introduce Caleb to people as ‘my boyfriend’ and they would, without fail, raise their eyebrows, look Caleb up and down, and pull their mouths into something between a smile and a frown. 

 

Caleb would smile wide, shake their hand and snake his arm around Ben’s waist and pull them flush together. 

 

People only had to spend thirty seconds with them to understand it. 

 

 _“Oh,”_ Anna, put her hand on Ben’s arm and twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. _“The way you look at him and the way he looks at you. It’s like nothing else matters.”_

Ben would look across the room and Caleb would be looking back at him and Ben would say _“nothing else does.”_

 

*****

 

He can’t leave the bar or leave the city because still, nothing else matters but the way Caleb is looking at him.

 

He’s frozen. He can’t move. Caleb ends his set and people applaud but Ben can’t remove his hand from his glass. 

 

He watches Caleb bend down and pack up his guitar, nod to the bartender and haul himself onto the stool next to him. 

There’s a beer in his hand a moment later and he kicks at Ben’s stool. 

 

“Ben,” he says. The same way he’s said it a million times before. He hasn’t heard it said like that in almost seven years but he hasn’t forgotten it. It makes him smile. He doesn’t think he’s done that in seven years either.

 

Ben finally finds his voice and says “hi, Caleb,” then, “you look exactly the same.”

 

Caleb lifts both shoulders and Ben stares at the thin fabric of his t-shirt as it moves. 

 

“You look different. You’re hair’s long.”

 

“Yeah,” Ben touches it, pushes a bit that’s fallen out of the elastic off his forehead and swallows 

thickly when Caleb follows the movement. “It didn’t used to be.”

 

He buzzed it before he shipped out. The sand and dust didn’t stick in it as easily then but now he thinks he still feels it all over him. In his hair and mouth, scratching against him as he lies awake in bed at night.

 

“It didn’t used to be,” he repeats. “It was….” He takes a deep breath as Caleb takes a sip of his drink. “It was a lot shorter.”

 

“Yeah, I figured. Are you back? For good?”

 

Ben nods. He’s out. His dress uniform is hanging against the wall in his closet and his medals are over the mantle place next to Sam’s at his father’s house. He’s not putting it on again or adding to the collection. 

 

“Are you living in the city?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How long have you been here?”

 

“About a year.”

 

“How long have you been back?”

 

“Same.”

 

Caleb smiles tightly and there’s anger in his eyes. He’s seen this look before. A lot. Because Ben used to be an asshole who cared too much about stupid shit and Caleb used to be an asshole who didn’t care enough about non-stupid shit and they were everything to each other but they fought and made up every other day. 

 

“Does everyone know you’re back?”

 

“Who’s everyone?”

 

“Everyone. Anna, Abe...everyone.”

 

“I haven’t talked to them.”

 

“Since when?”

 

“Since the last time I saw them. It was a few days before the last time I saw you. I’m sorry.”

 

Caleb laughs. It’s hollow and bitter and he runs his tongue across his teeth. “For what, Ben?”

 

 _Jesus, everything._

 

“Caleb,” he reaches out and tries to put his hand over Caleb’s wrist but Caleb moves it back and smoothly slides it around his beer bottle. “Do you want to have dinner with me right now? We can go somewhere else and talk. If you want to talk to me.”

 

“What's there to talk about?”

 

They've already said everything to each other. They used to stay up all night talking in Caleb's cramped, little bed, with Ben's head on his chest and Caleb's fingers carding through his hair. Ben used to fall asleep to the sound of Caleb's words rumbling in his chest before they passed his lips in a rough whispers. What more is there to say? What else does he want to hear?

 

“Just give me…..”

 

A chance. An opportunity to spend more time with you. 

 

“Please, Caleb. I know a place. It's not far.”

 

*****

 

Billy looks up from pouring coffee when they walk through the door. 

 

He looks curiously at Caleb as Ben leads the way to his regular booth. 

 

This was his first stop when he came home. He went from the plane to a cab to the first diner that was open to the first booth that was free. 

 

He still had his uniform on, he was still dusty from the desert and Billy introduced himself immediately, shook his hand and thanked him for his service and Ben tried to hide his uncomfortable smile and ordered a cup of coffee and pancakes. He stayed for hours drinking coffee after coffee and when he finally got up to pay Billy told him it was taken care of and not to worry about it. Ben was too tired to fight it, he was so tired of fighting, so he let it be but slipped a 20 beneath his empty cup as a tip. 

 

Billy's going to Columbia. He spends most of his time studying behind the counter only taking breaks to refill Ben's coffee or coke. 

 

Sometimes Billy will slide into the booth opposite him and chew on the end of his pen as he reads from his book, underlining key phrases and sticking post-it's to mark pages. 

 

Sometimes he complains about a professor or tells Ben about what he did over the weekend or the night before. Ben mostly just listens. He's good at that. 

 

One night Ben surprises both of them by saying “I used to go to Yale. Before. I didn't finish but I got close.”

 

“Damn,” Billy's eyebrows shot up. “Really? You ever think about going back?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“You should, man. Doesn't have to be Yale. Columbia had a lot of options. Plus you'd already have a friend there.”

 

Ben nodded and tried to not sound choked up when he said “I'll think about it.” 

 

“Why'd you decide to come back?” Caleb asks them as soon as they sit. He doesn’t even wait for Billy to stop pouring Ben’s coffee. He starts to pour a cup for Caleb but Caleb covers it with his hand and asks for water instead. It’s late. He doesn’t want to be up all night. Ben doesn’t have that problem. “Why didn’t you reenlist, or whatever?”

 

 _It felt like there was a bomb on my chest. I couldn't breathe with it on there but I couldn't take it off and give it to someone else._

 

Instead he shrugs and stares down at the menu even though he has it memorized. He gets the same thing every time. Billy's probably already placed his order. 

 

“Felt like the right time.” 

 

Caleb nods and says nothing else and when Billy comes over he orders a burger and fries and Billy asks Ben if he wants the usual or not. He seems thrown off by Ben coming in here with someone.

 

“You have a usual order?”

 

“I come here a lot.” 

 

“In the year that you've been back.”

 

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you.”

 

“You're not obligated to tell me anything, Ben”

 

“If it makes you feel better I didn't even tell my dad until 3 months after I got back.”

 

Caleb stares across the table at him. “That doesn't make me feel better.”

 

Ben folds his hands in his lap as they wait for their food. Caleb powers through 2 glasses of water and watches the rain start to fall out the window. 

 

Billy looks like he's not sure what to do. He's watching the tension in both their shoulders and giving Ben these looks like he's telling him to give him a single if this is a hostage situation or something. 

 

There's only one other person in the place, an older man sitting at the counter so there food arrives quickly. Thankfully. 

 

Caleb cut his burger in half and Ben circles the maple syrup around his pancakes. 

 

Caleb watches him when a funny little curve to his lips. 

 

“Somethings don't change, huh?”

 

*****

 

There wasn't much Ben could cook with any consistent success but his pancakes were always a hit. He made them thick and fluffy, perfectly golden brown and uniformly sized. 

 

He refused to use a box mix and insisted on real maple syrup. Caleb would always try to slip in a bottle of Mrs. Butterworth's at the grocery store just to see Ben's reaction to it and it never failed to amuse him. 

 

“Do you want kids?” Caleb wrapped his arms around him from behind and rested his forehead between his shoulder blades. 

 

Ben looked up from the pancakes he was flipping and glanced over his shoulder. 

 

“Sure. It's gonna be hard to knock me up but you're welcome to try.”

 

He could feel his smile against his shirt and Caleb grabbed his hips and flipped him so Ben's back was cutting against the counter and they were face to face, Caleb's tipped up and Ben's angled down. 

 

“I'm serious. Do you think about having kids?”

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

He always figured that's how it would go. Go to college, get a job, get married, have kids. It felt a lot less like going through the motions when he thought about doing it all with Caleb next to him. It was something he wanted. _This is my husband. These are our children._

 

“Do you?”

 

“Yeah. Could be fun, a bunch of kids running around.”

 

“A bunch of them?”

 

“Don't say it like that. It's not like one of us has to birth them. Lots of kids needs homes. You'd be good at it.”

 

Ben laughed and flipped a pancake. “You think?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“We should probably get married first.”

 

It was a joke but Caleb nodded and said _“okay”_ and Ben was about to ask what he meant by that when the phone rang. 

 

“Hold that thought,” Ben said then ducked down to kiss his cheek. “Make sure the pancakes don't burn but don't touch them. I'll be right back.” He kissed him once more then went to get the phone.

 

It was his father telling him Sam had been killed. 

 

He dropped the phone without hanging up and left. Caleb was calling after him and his pancakes were burning in the pan. 

 

He came back hours later to Caleb who looked at him through worried, watery eyes. 

 

Ben slept through all his classes. Caleb would only wake him to tell him eat something, _please, Ben you haven't had anything in two days. At least have some orange juice._

 

At the funeral they stood side by side and watched a soldier fold up the flag that was draped over the casket and hand it over to Nathaniel Tallmadge. He lost his wife and a son and Ben was all he had left so it was shocking when he told Caleb that night as he kneeling in front of him untying his shoes that he had enlisted. 

 

Caleb looked up with his hands braced on Ben's knees, his thumbs pressing hard enough to leave bruises and laughed. He didn't know what else to do. 

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“I enlisted. I'm leaving day after tomorrow,” he explained blandly as he worked the knot in his tie loose. Caleb pushed himself to his feet and started to pace. Ben popped open the cuffs of his sleeves. 

 

“When did you decide this? What about school? Were you going to talk to me about this?”

 

“After Sam died. I already talked to the dean. He wanted to talk to me about it when I put in my request to withdraw. He wished me luck, told me to be careful and I just told you about it.” 

 

“That's all I get?” Caleb had exploded but Ben was numb to it. “You can't do this, you're grieving, you're not thinking clearly. I know what you're going through-.”

 

“You have no idea what I'm going through,” Ben shouted. 

 

“You think you're the only person to lose someone?”

 

Caleb's parents died when he was young, before they met. 

 

Ben stayed with him in the hospital room and held Caleb’s hand as they watched his uncle slip slowly and silently away. Caleb handled the loss better. He was always stronger.

 

“I know what it's like,” He said with an air of false calm. “I know how you feel but you can't take his place Ben, you can't do this to your father, you can't do this to me.”

 

“It's already done. I'm going. I can't take it back. I won't. I shouldn't have told you.”

 

“You were just going to leave without telling me? What, you'd leave a note? _Joined the army, be back when I can, maybe, love Ben._ What the hell?”

 

“Don't be so offended, it has nothing to do with you.”

 

“It has everything to do with me because you're leaving and I love you-.” 

 

“If you can't support me on this then you don't really love me.” 

 

Caleb didn't say anything and Ben shook his head, grabbed his coat off the bed beside him and jammed his feet back into his shoes. “This whole thing with us was a mistake. You were a mistake. Good luck with everything, Caleb.”

 

He left everything he owned in the apartment with Caleb. Everything he ever cared about and he never looked back.

 

Caleb's the only piece of it he's ever seen again. 

 

*****

 

“What was it like over there?” Caleb asks as he dips a fry into ketchup. 

 

“One extreme to the next. Boring and then terrifying. Hot then cold. The food sucked and people were trying to kill me. But I was trying to kill them too so I can't really blame them.”

 

Caleb looked at him with a wide eyed horror at his flippant tone and remembered that people didn't find that anecdote to be as funny as Ben did. He knows his father didn't appreciate it and neither did Billy. 

 

“I don't miss it,” he adds quietly. 

 

*****

 

They put bars on his uniform and he was suddenly in command of men with a decade plus of experience on him as well as 18 year old kids who joined to piss off a parent or because it's what their father did and they wanted to follow in his footsteps and make him proud or because they came from a tiny town with nothing else going on. 

 

They all looked to him to tell them what to do. They trusted him to keep them safe and he tried to put some emotional distance between them and himself but somehow word got out that he used to go to Yale and all hell broke loose. 

 

“Were you gonna be a lawyer, Captain?”

 

“That's just what the world needs, more lawyers.”

 

“I wasn't going to law school. I didn't even finish.”

 

“Don't matter. You're still closer to it than any of us will ever be.” 

 

They were hunkered down for the night. The relative safety of the town and the darkness made them lazy and relaxed and they were mouthing off more than they should've been. Ben was doing nothing to stop it. He was letting them have a moment. They earned it. 

 

Private Hendricks, barely 18 looked up with him in wonder and said “Brains, beauty and brawn, you're the total package,” which was followed quickly by a terse and slightly embarrassed “sir.”

 

The silence was deafening and terrifying and stretched on until everyone around him laughed and shoved him as his face flared red. 

 

“I knew it,” Sergeant Anderson laughed. “Pay up, I knew Hendricks would be the first one to break and tell Cap how he really feels.” 

 

“Captain, I didn't mean-.”

 

“It's okay,” Ben looked him over quickly. Tall, hair so blond and fine it looked almost white in the sun and seemed to glow in the dark. “I'm flattered, private, but I just don't think you're my type.”

 

The conversation quickly dissolved into what everyone's type actually was and descriptions and over exaggerations about each other's wives and girlfriends.

 

Ben quietly excused himself and walked out into the night. 

 

It didn't take long for someone to find him. 

He was sitting in his truck with a map across his lap trying to figure where the hell command was supposed to be sending them when Private Adams tossed a worn photo of him and another man, smiling to the camera with their arms draped around each other's shoulders. They looked happy and comfortable together. 

 

He picked it up by the corner and looked up at Adams. 

 

“If anyone were to find it I gotta tell them he's my brother. How fucked up is that? You ever take a picture like that with your brother? Shit.” 

 

Ben shook his head and handed the picture back over. “Why are you telling me this?” 

 

He shrugged and tucked the photo back inside his jacket pocket. “I guess it's that you don't ever talk about your girlfriend.”

 

“I don't have one.”

 

“Neither do most of these guys but that doesn't stop them. Even I make shit up sometimes just to join in. Ya’know, be a part of it. I won't tell anyone. No one even cares anyways. It's just some bullshit rule. I'm just letting you know if you want a guaranteed judgement free conversation I'm the one to go to. It's boring as fuck out here and I can only stand to listen to these guys and their imaginary hetero relationships for so long.”

 

Despite himself Ben cracked a smile. 

 

“I'd love to hear about your boyfriend, sir, that's all I'm saying. Mix it up a bit.”

 

“I don't have a boyfriend.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Ben took a deep breath, looked him right in the eyes and said “I have an ex-boyfriend.”

 

“Damn. His loss, sir. You know some people just don't know how to deal with this.”

 

Ben laughed then, loud enough to startle the both of them and said _“you have no idea.”_

 

*****

 

“You’re still doing music?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you living in the city?”

 

“No, New Haven still. Haven’t really made it yet.”

 

“You will.”

 

“Well it’s been a bit.”

 

“You’ll make it. I’ve always thought that.”

 

***** 

 

Caleb used to wake him up by sitting on the edge of the bed and playing softly. They stopped setting the alarm because Caleb would always be the one to pull him gently out of sleep. 

He used to play all the time. It was background noise. Ben couldn’t study without it. Caleb would be playing on the couch, pausing to scribble something in the notebook and Ben couldn’t look away from the curve of his shoulder or the way his fingers danced across the strings and Caleb would look up and apologize.

 

“If I’m bothering you I can knock it off. Or go somewhere else.”

 

Ben shook his head and said “stay and don’t stop.”

 

When people would ask him what his boyfriend did for a living he'd always answer _he's a musician_ even if most of his bills were being paid from being a waiter or a bartender or working at Starbucks- whatever the job of the week was. They'd ask but what does he really do? and Ben would answer slowly and clearly _he's a musician._

 

“How many of your songs are about me?” He had his arm slung around Caleb from behind with his hand hanging over his heart.

 

Caleb turned his face into Ben’s neck and answered “all of them.”

 

“Even the sad ones?”

 

“They’re not sad. They’re contemplative.”

 

*****

 

“Do you talk to your father a lot. You should tell him I said hello.”

 

Caleb and his father always got along well. 

 

“I don't really.”

 

They haven't spoken in months. There's nothing to talk about. Nothing has changed. His father called him on the anniversary of Sam’s death but Ben didn't pick up. 

 

The last time they really spoke was when Ben decided to go home after he settled in the city. 

 

His dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway so he sat on the front steps for hours waiting. 

 

When he finally showed up with an armful of groceries he promptly dropped them and pulled him into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around him too easily with all the weight he lost. When he finally pulled away there were tears falling down his face and Ben couldn't look him in the eye. 

 

“Why didn't you use your key? Did you lose it?”

 

“No,” Ben said. It was still on his key ring right next to his apartment key. The only two on it. “I didn't know if I was still allowed to use it.”

 

“Benjamin,” Mr. Tallmadge hugged him again and squeezed. “You're always allowed.”

 

The attention made him uncomfortable and after an awkward dinner he left and didn't call back for another month. 

 

“I don't really talk. A lot.”

 

“To anyone?”

 

Ben shrugs and picks at the last bit of pancake on the plate. “I guess there's nothing to say.”

 

Caleb narrows his eyes. “You went to war. That's not nothing.”

 

“It's nothing I want to talk about. I don't want to burden anyone else with it.” 

 

“It’s not a bur-,” he snaps then shakes his head and purses his lips. “It’s late,” he checks his phone to get the exact time and sighs. “I’ve missed my train so I have to find somewhere to stay tonight. It was nice seeing you again.”

 

He reaches for the check in the middle of the table but Ben is quicker.

 

“Let me,” he says, “it was my idea. And you can stay with me. Tonight, if you want. I have the space.” 

It’s true. For the most part. He has a queen sized bed and a couch that’s long enough that his feet don’t dangle off the end of it when he lies down. 

 

“It’s cheaper than a hotel, that’s all I’m saying. You can have the bed, I’ll stay on the couch.” 

 

Caleb looks at him like that’s a give-in and Ben pulls two twenties out of his wallet and leave it on the table. 

 

Caleb watches him and starts to say “that’s way too much,” but Ben raises his hand and tells him not to worry about it. 

 

“How far is your place?”

 

“Not too far,” they stand and Ben wants to help Caleb into his jacket, his hands practically shake at his sides so he settles for reaching over and grabbing his guitar case where it’s been wedged between the bench and the table. Caleb takes it from him wordlessly and heads for the door. Ben walks behind hands shaking again from holding back the want to put them on his lower back and guide. 

 

“It's pouring,” Caleb says. He stops on the steps leading into the diner and the door narrowly closes behind Ben. 

 

“I like the rain.”

 

“C’mon, we’re not going to get a cab now and the subway is only a few blocks.”

 

“I usually walk.”

 

“You wanna walk? It's ten blocks.”

 

“Yeah. I walk. I walked to the bar tonight.”

 

“You can't take the subway.”

 

“It's not that I can't,” Ben says loudly over the rain against the pavement. He's on the edge of being angry because he knows what Caleb's thinking. He's thinking the subway messes with him. That he can't handle the tight space or the crowd or that there's only one entrance and exit. He doesn't care about the noise of it. The grinding against the rails or the lights flickering when it goes in and out of a tunnel. He likes to walk. He likes the time it takes. He never has to be anyone in a hurry. No one is ever waiting on him. He can take his time. “I just usually don't. We can do it though, if you want.” 

 

He takes a few steps in the direction of the subway but Caleb puts his hand up in surrender. “It's fine, we'll walk. It's only water.” 

 

They stick close to the buildings. Ducking under awnings and far away from the splash of cars and filled cabs. 

 

It hits Ben how far it actually is now that Caleb is walking in his footsteps with his guitar case knocking him in the back of the knee each time he swings his arms. 

 

There's another five flights of stairs to get to his apartment but at least this final leg is dry. 

 

Ben unlocks the door and flips the light on. 

 

His apartment is clean and mostly empty. 

 

A couch, a chair, a lamp on a small side table, and a TV that he rarely watches. 

The kitchen isn’t much better. 

 

There’s an old stand mixer on the counter next to the microwave that were both there when he moved in and table with two chairs, one of which has never been sat on. 

 

Caleb has his guitar case resting against the wall next to the door and he’s struggling to peel his damp jacket off his arms. 

 

His teeth are chattering but he’s trying to stop them and the need to protect washes over Ben. 

The want wins out as he gets a hand on Caleb’s shoulder and starts to lead him towards the bathroom. 

 

“You’re shaking. Do you want to take a shower to warm up?” He reaches blindly into the bathroom and flicks on the light. “Warm up and I’ll get you some clothes to change into.”

Caleb is pliable beneath his hands when Ben holds one to the side of his face and tips his head up. He ducks down to look him in the eye. “Are you okay? I didn’t just make you get a cold or laryngitis or something that’ll wreck your voice, did I?”

 

“I’m fine,” Caleb says and Ben’s hand drops as he remembers their situation. 

 

“The shower is pretty good. Pressure is nice.”

 

He knows it is. It was awful when he first got here. He was trying to wash off years of grime and pain beneath a dripping faucet. 

 

It took him four days and countless trips to the hardware store before he got it to work. The man behind the counter thought it was funny that he kept coming in. He joked that he was keeping a tally but Ben only wanted a screwdriver and some duct tape and didn't want any small talk. 

“Do you have a super you could call, kid.”

 

“Don't want to. This gives me something to do.”

 

“You don't have a job?”

 

It was none of his business. He has enough money to last him. The screwdriver in the bag is the most expensive thing he's bought in weeks. 

 

“You know if you need one I could always use help.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“We also offer a military discount.”

 

Ben looked up sharply and didn't know how he figured it out then he remembered his haircut and the dog tags he's still wearing around his neck.

 

“I don't need it.”

 

“Every little bit helps.” 

 

He let his hair grow and took the dog tags off and started going to the hardware store on the other side of town where the bored looking teen behind the counter didn't even make eye contact with him. 

 

“There are towels in the closet and I can get you some clothes,” he leaves him outside the bathroom as he ducks into his room down the hall, reemerging with a longsleeved shirt and sweatpants. Caleb has already entered the bathroom and gotten his jacket all the way off and his toeing off his wet converse. “Here,” he shoves the dry clothes at Caleb and picks up his jacket. “Your stuff should be dry by the morning. If not there's a machine in the building but it's all the way in the basement.”

 

“This is fine, they’ll dry.” 

 

They’re standing chest to chest in the small bathroom and Ben has to brush fully against Caleb as he slides out. 

 

“I think there’s an extra toothbrush beneath the sink,” he says and the door is already closed with the lock clicking in place. 

 

There’s nothing to do but wait for Caleb to finish. 

There’s nothing to clean or put in place. The sheets on the bed are new, changed them yesterday and now his hamper is overflowing but that’s locked in the bathroom with Caleb so all he can do is pace nervously in the kitchen. 

 

After ten minutes the shower stops and a few minutes later the door opens. 

 

The sleeves are too long for his arms and he's had to roll them up. His hair is damp and messy and already beginning to curl. 

 

Ben, like always, doesn’t know what to do. He hasn’t caught his footing all night and he just keeps slipping. 

 

“Do you want to watch something. I have Netflix.”

 

It’s not his account. It’s Billy’s. A few months ago Billy was feeling especially chatty and told him he absolutely had to watch House Of Cards. _“You got Netflix, no, don’t worry, I got you.”_ He had ripped a page out of the small notebook he took orders in and scribbled his account information across the back. 

 

“I’m kind of tired,” Caleb answers and walks closer, stopping when he’s right in front of him like they were in the bathroom except now there’s no reason to be. 

 

Ben’s careful not to touch him this time. Not when Caleb’s skin is still warm from the shower and he’s wearing one of his oldest and softest shirts. 

 

He’s about to bring up sleeping arrangements- _you can take the bed I’ll take the couch, I really don’t mind, it’s more comfortable than it looks. I’ve slept in humvees and in shallow graves I’ve dug in the middle of the desert, a couch is nothing now,_ when Caleb touches the side of his face.

 

He used to do this; his hand wrapped around his jaw and his thumb against his lower lip, in public and in private, it didn't matter. He used to hold him and smile until Ben smiled back and say _“so sweet”_ before Ben pushed him away then let himself be pulled in again because he loved it, every bit of it, and he loved him, every bit of him. 

 

He doesn't know when that stopped. When that warmth faded away and slipped into something else. When he stopped thinking about him between the boredom and fear and didn't think about him at all. He wishes he could say that it never happened. That he was always with him but it's not true. He couldn't hold onto him. He couldn't be the kind of man that loved Caleb Brewster and also be the man that lined up a shot against a man, barely a man, more of a boy, and took it without hesitating. They couldn't go together and the realization of it took him by storm. He suddenly remembered Caleb in the way one of his men laughed, it sounded just like him and it hit him that he hadn't thought of Caleb in days or weeks- time didn't matter out there- and Ben was still breathing and standing. _“You feeling okay, Captain?”_ One of his men said. _“You should go see Doc.”_

 

He waved them off and shook his head. He was fine. 

 

No one calls him sweet anymore because he's not. 

 

No one touches him anymore because he doesn't let them. 

 

Caleb raises on his toes like he used to. He used to kiss him deep and slow.

 

Now he rises and dips back down and his hand falls away. 

 

“The bedroom is down the hall. Right at the end.”

 

Caleb looks towards the open door. There’s fabric pooling at his feet.

 

“Okay. Are you coming?”

 

Ben’s speechless, again, like the first time they saw each other. The world spins just the same. 

 

“Yeah, okay. I’m just gonna,” he nods behind him to the lights on in the kitchen. “Turn everything off and take a shower and then I’ll be in.”

 

He takes his time. Locks the door, shuts the lights off, rechecks the door, then takes a shower. It's still steamy from Caleb's and he stands beneath the spray until the water begins to run cool. 

Caleb's lying on Ben's side of the bed when he comes in. He lifts the covers and carefully gets in beside him. It's like there's an ocean between them. He reaches behind him to flip off the light when Caleb suddenly turns over and they're face to face. 

 

“Does your hair dry curly now?” He's focused on a strand of hair by his ear and Ben thinks he's going to reach out and touch it but he keeps his hands folded in front of him beneath his chin. 

 

“It's wavy. Usually I wear it back.”

 

“Huh,” he starts with a quick inhale and looks at the bed. “I'm on your side, aren't I? I forgot.”

 

“It's okay.”

 

“We can switch.”

 

“Caleb, it's alright.”

Caleb's already lifting himself out of the bed and Ben moves to pull him back. He wraps his fingers around his hip and tugs. Caleb comes crashing back and he lands on has side close to 

Ben with Ben's hand still clasped around him and it's so familiar. 

 

They've fallen asleep next to each other countless times. Skin against skin, wrapped in worn and comfortable cotton shirts and flannel pants, or Ben falling asleep on top of the covers fully dressed with his shoes still on and Caleb coming home from a show or a late shift and gently slipping Ben's shoes off and sliding into bed next to him, on top of the covers still fully dressed. Wrapping his arms around him and burying his nose into the back of his neck. 

 

“It’s okay,” he closes his hand around the fabric of the shirt then lets him go. “I really don’t mind. Are you warm enough?”

 

Caleb nods and moves just a little bit closer. They don’t say anything as Caleb positions himself close enough to rest his forehead against Ben’s. 

 

Ben watches from his own pillow as Caleb shuts his eyes and falls asleep. 

 

The light is still on behind him but Ben doesn’t move to shut it off. It’s casting warm shadows against Caleb’s face making it impossible to look away. 

 

He gives up on pretending to sleep at the first sign of light filtering in beneath the blinds.

 

It’s not unusual. Occasionally he’ll catch the news or read a study in the newspaper that you’re supposed to get seven to eight hours a sleep at night and he’ll shake his head. He’s been running on three, on a good night, for years now. 

 

He doesn’t get nightmares. He doesn’t dream at all. He just can’t seem to quiet his mind, stop worrying and stop thinking even though he can never pinpoint what exactly he’s worrying about. 

 

Caleb’s still a heavy sleeper and they’re not touching anywhere so it’s easy for him to get up and grab a pair of shoes. 

 

Usually when he can’t sleep he goes for a run. He loops around Battery Park and through the financial district and then he does it again. And again. 

 

Today he goes slow. It’s still drizzling out and the pavement is wet. He hasn’t slept but he doesn't feel tired knowing that Caleb’s still asleep in his bed.

 

Caleb’s awake when he gets back. 

 

Ben stands inside the door with a brown paper bag in his arms watching him, 

 

He’s sitting on the couch fully dressed in his own clothes. Ben’s are folded in a neat pile next to him. He’s tying his shoes. 

 

“I have to go.”

 

“There are a lot of trains into New Haven. Can’t you stay a little bit?”

 

“No, I have to leave right now.”

 

He gets the second shoe tied and stands. 

 

“Are you seeing anyone?”

 

Caleb looks at him in disbelief. “Do you think I would have crawled into your bed last night if I was?”

 

“Have you?”

 

“It's been seven years, Ben. What do you think?”

 

Ben raises an eyebrow and focuses on the groceries again. 

 

“You can't be jealous.”

 

Ben bites his lip and unpacks the bag. He bought fresh strawberries from the market around the corner and heavy cream from the corner store. He thinks there's a whisk in one of the drawers. 

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

“Ben, I have to go.”

 

“After breakfast. 

 

“Ben,” he sighs. There’s nothing blocking the door to stop him from leaving. His guitar is right where he left it. It’s a quick escape but he hasn’t moved. “I can’t do this.”

 

Ben rests down hands flat on the counter and hangs his head. 

 

“I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of, that I don't like remembering and the way I treated you is one of them. I'm not who I was when I was 21.”

 

“Few people are but you're something else. You're not okay. You don't sleep.”

 

“I do, I did, you were there.”

 

“No, you tossed and turned and what time did you actually get up this morning?”

 

“I like to take a walk in the morning. It's not that big a deal. I'm not used to sleeping next to someone.”

 

“You can't take the subway.” 

 

“I can, I just don't want to. It's not-.”

 

“You don't eat, there's nothing in the fridge or any of the cupboards and you don't talk to people. If you didn't want to talk to me or tell me you were coming home that's fine but everyone else….they were your friends. They loved you and did nothing to deserve that. And what's about your dad? It was like he lost both of you. That's not okay. There's something wrong.”

 

“I'm fine.”

 

“You can't seem to stop lying to me. I should go, I have to get home. 

 

“Can I see you again?”

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

 

“Caleb.”

 

“I shouldn’t have come home with you. I don't one I what I was thinking. I guess I wanted closure but that's not going to happen,” he starts to open the door and Ben bursts to life. 

He's across the apartment and slamming the door shut pressing his full weight against it. 

 

“Just to talk. I just want someone to talk to. It doesn't have to be like how it was.” 

 

“It's never going to be like how it was,” Caleb shouts, straight fire in his eyes. “You don't understand that. I had to listen to my boyfriend, my best friend, tell me I never loved him. You told me I was a mistake.”

 

“I know what I said to you. I think about it all the time.”

 

“And you never tried to apologize. I was here the whole time and I heard nothing from you. Honestly, if you had called or written after you left I probably would've forgiven you. It would have taken time but we could've tried. But you waited too long and I can't do it anymore. I'm not letting it happen again.”

 

“It wouldn't,” Ben said weakly. “I missed you. I thought….” He takes a deep breath and tries to collect his thoughts. “When I was over there I stopped thinking about you. I couldn't hold onto you and be the person that I needed to be at the same time. I had to let you go but now, seeing you again…”

 

“I don't love you anymore,” Caleb says and Ben feels that. “Not like that. But I care about you and I want you to be okay. You do need to talk to someone but it's not me. Call your dad. Get Abe or Anna or talk to that waiter that dotes on you. Go to a meeting or talk to some of the men you served with. It doesn't matter but you need help.”

 

“I don't.”

 

“But you do,” Caleb cups his hand to the side of his face with his thumb just under his bottom lip like he did last night. Like he’s done a hundred times before. Ben leans in and shuts his eyes. He craves the contact. “Start taking care of yourself, Ben.”

 

Caleb grabs his guitar and opens the door. From the hallway he turns and says, “Good luck.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're looking for a happier ending here you go:
> 
>  
> 
> Imagine Caleb left and Ben listened to him. 
> 
> He started going to meetings at the VA and sometimes he even takes the subway there and he sleeps in every Sunday and cooks himself a real breakfast. He has a standing dinner date with Anna every Wednesday at a restaurant that is not the diner and they talk about Selah and her job and what her plans are for Christmas or Thanksgiving and she invites him to the shore for the 4th of July weekend and he goes and has fun. He still goes to the diner a lot but when Billy brings up Columbia he really means it when he says he's thinking about applying. He's already gotten in contact with Yale to get his records. 
> 
> He spends a lot of time with his dad. He calls him every other day and he drives himself out (that rental discount is amazing) every weekend and fixes things around the house for him. They visit Sam and his mother and Ben brings flowers for both and he's not as angry or lost as he used to be. 
> 
> He's buying groceries one afternoon because he's almost out of peanut butter and he needs some fresh fruit and he's checking to find a ripe avocado when someone clears their throat next to him and Ben apologizes because he thinks he's in the way which is a big deal because before he'd just shuffle out of the way and probably just go home because even that was too much of an interaction for one day and then he looks up and there's Caleb with a basket full of kale and Oreos because he’s trying to eat healthy but Oreos are his weakness, they always have been, and they start to talk. 
> 
> It's a little awkward and overly polite but it's a rush that Ben hasn't felt since he was in Afghanistan but it's not scary anymore. It doesn't make him want to panic. He wants more of it. It's like falling in love all over again. Caleb shyly shifts the basket from hand to hand and tells Ben he looks good because he does. He sees more sun and he's gained a little weight and his hairs still long so he tells Caleb he's thinking about cutting it. Caleb tells him to keep it. It looks good and then he tells him he's been playing more and people have been paying him more so he doesn't have to work as many odd jobs and Ben is the happiest he's been since the moment they met and they've been talking for 20 minutes and Ben has a carton of Ben & Jerry's in his basket that's starting to melt and he doesn't even care. That's how happy he is. 
> 
> The conversation lulls and Ben starts to let him go because he's sure Caleb has better things to do on a Tuesday afternoon than talk to an, all things considered, shitty ex-boyfriend and even though he is getting better there's still quite a ways to go. Sometimes he has to force himself to call his dad and he's cancelled on Anna a few times (she was very understanding and that made him feel even worse) and sometimes he gets up before the sun and walks the width of Manhattan for no other reason besides boredom and he thinks Caleb deserves more than that. Caleb doesn't love him anymore so all he can offer is friendship or some kind of fucked up complicated version of it and he's still not there yet. So he says goodbye and that it was nice to see him again and he's turning on his heels when Caleb grabs his arm and turns him back around and it's almost impossible for Ben not to tell him he loves him, again, still, that he's full on thinking of him all the time in love but he keeps it in as Caleb asks if it would be okay if they exchanged numbers in case Ben ever wanted to talk. That he’d like to listen.


End file.
